Untitled
by MetricCelsius
Summary: Aurora Luana Marinescu-Hills has quite a history. A child prodigy, she solved her first murder case at 15 so of course getting into the BAU was a piece of cake. She makes friends. Her first friends. And maybe something more.  Friendship for now.


DOB: February 14th 1983

My name is Aurora Luana Marinescu-Hills. I grew up in Transylvania, Romania and when I first came to the US, that fact cost me a lot of vampire jokes, especially since I lived near Vlad Draculas home. Both of my parents were mentally unstable. My mother was a seamstress and used me as a mannequin most of the time, dressing me in medieval dresses complete with whale-bone corsets. My father was a washed-out genetic scientist. He experimented on me and at least twelve other siblings of mine who died in his experiments. When people started getting suspicious, he stopped using his own offspring and started kidnapping girls from all around Europe which started a human trafficking ring. When I was 11 years old, he got caught by Interpol. I remember that day as if it were yesterday; the fact that my DNA was altered to make me 'perfect,' probably assists me in that aspect.

September 22nd 1994

I was silent as my mother fitted me into a corset. I was so used to the routine that I just stood there and stared into the full length mirror in front of me. My reflection is a creepy combination of both my parents' appearances. My mother has the 'Swedish Supermodel' look, with her straight blonde hair, pale blue eyes and fair skin. Father has curly, black hair, tan skin and dark green eyes. I have straight black hair, pale green eyes and pale skin; like I said, creepy. Even though I'm only 11, I have an hourglass figure because of the corsets my mother forces me into. This day was different though. Our routine was disrupted. The knocks at the door surprised my mother and she accidentally stabbed me with a pin, I hardly felt it and offered to see who it was.

"No, I'll go," I remember her saying. It would be the last time I ever saw her alive. At the door were two local police officers and three Interpol agents. They said they needed to talk to my father; Mother was confused, she didn't know what he had done. I did. I was the one who tipped off the authorities in the first place. Mother went off to find my father and bring him upstairs and gestured the law enforcement officers into the room I was in. I knew the two local policemen. The tall, thin one was Gabriel and the even taller, but somewhat bulkier one was Andrei.

"Hello, Andi, Gabi!" I exclaimed and gave them both a hug. I speak excellent English but have a heavy Romanian accent. The three Interpol agents (two men and a woman) seemed slightly confused at this display of affection.

"Hey, Gold," Gabriel said, using his nickname for me as my name means gold in Latin. Andrei didn't say anything as the typical strong, silent type.

"Are these people the Interpol?" I asked.

"Yes, we are," the woman said, "my name is Jane Walker, this is Michael Parks and Sam Hill. What's your name, sweetie?"

"You know my name."

"I do?"

"Yes, that's why you're here. I told Gabriel and Andrei about what my father does and they called you. They would have already told you my name," I almost laughed at the astonished look on her face but somehow managed to keep calm.

"Haha!" the Sam Hill laughed, "We got ourselves a smart one, Janey. She won't fall for that one." Jane scowled, probably at the use of a name like 'Janey.' Or it could be because she was just insulted. Either one.

"You got it head-on kid. Your name is Aurora Luana Marinescu. You called Gabriel here at 9:02am on the 5th of this month about your fathers crimes." I decided I like this guy.

"Yes, I did. I felt it was necessary for the safety of the young girls."

Suddenly, a door burst open and my father ran in holding a bloodied knife cursing under his breathe so that all the words jumbled together. All the people with guns in the room, drew them out and focused them on my father. I knew what he was trying to do. Suicide by cop. And I wasn't about to let that happen. The authorities needed his cooperation to bring down his trafficking ring.

"Dad," I said, stepping between the police and my father. I knew he wouldn't stab me. I was he's greatest achievement. His perfection.

"You don't want to do this, Dad," I pleaded.

"Shut up! You don't know anything!"

"I know you won't hurt me."

"No, you don't. You don't know that. You can't know that! You know nothing!"

"I know you can't stab me. I'm your only success story. You can't kill your perfect experiment and not only that, I'm your daughter. Even if you killed Mother, I know you never loved her. She was an egg donor to you. Nothing more than a surrogate," a single tear slid down my cheek as I spoke so poorly of the woman who raised me.

They crazed look in his eyes faltered and he slowly lowered the knife and Agent Parks rushed forward and cuffed him. Before reading him his Miranda Rights he glaced at me with and amazed look on his face. Agent Hills came up to me and asked if I was okay. No one had ever asked me that before. It broke the dam. I cried. I cried and cried until I could cry no more. Agent Hills took me in his arms and comforted me.

About ten minutes later they found my mothers' body in the basement along with the bodies of my dead siblings and several of the kidnapped girls. They also found two girls that were still alive and waiting to be transported to be sold as prostitutes in Thailand.

March 4th 1998

Sam Hills and his wife Lane adopted me after the trial ended. Throughout the duration of the trial I did not go to school but read books on quantum physics, criminal psychology, law, language, etc. When I went to start school the next year I went straight to senior year (yes, at 13) and graduated with the highest score in the country. It was shortly after this that I came to work on my first case. My father (Sam Hills, not Mr. Marinescu) had demoted himself to working in a local FBI field office in Virginia. There was this case. It had seemed like an average Hallowe'en case since the first murder occurred on the 31st of October. One night, he came home with his case files. I was up reading 'Crime and Punishment' by Fyodor Dostoyevsky (A/N: one of my favourite books) in Russian for the 17th time when I heard him come in. I glanced at the clock on my bedside table. It was 11.47pm and I was having trouble sleeping, so I got up to greet my new dad.

As I walked into the living room, I heard him muttering to himself, "She was so young."

"He got another one didn't he," my accent had mostly gone away, but a faint hint remained. Sam was startled by my sudden appearance, but quickly recovered and nodded solemnly.

"At least let me look at a crime scene photo," I pleaded, "Maybe I can help."

"No. It's too gruesome," he vehemently denied.

"But-"

"No."

"I'm a genius," I pulled out my trump card, "I know I can help."

No one would have been able to argue with that. He pulled out a box from under the coffee table and took a seat on the sofa. I rushed over with almost superhuman speed and sat on the floor next to the box.

Sam looked at me and sighed before removing the lid. Without delay I started removing files and crime scene pictures and immediately noticed something.

"The last victim was killed on the 1st of March and was the only female, right?"

"Yeah, Uh, Autumn Rose Cain, 16 years old, she was visiting her sick grandmother in Virginia Beach from South Carolina."

"She's not Romanian, is she?" I inquired.

"No, why? You figured something out didn't you?"

"Maybe, where are the first crime scene photos?"

"At the bottom of the box, my beautiful genius," he said proudly.

I dug my way towards the bottom of the box and pulled out the first crime scene photos. There was something carved in the dirt about ten feet away from the body.

"'_Before you reach God, the saints will eat you_,'" I muttered.

"What?" Sam leaned over and looked at the picture.

"This writing, 'până ajungi la Dumnezeu, te mănâncă sfinţii,' it's a Romanian saying. It means '_before you reach God, the saints will eat you_,'" I explained.

"Well that explains what happened to his heart," Sam thought aloud.

"And the heart is often revered as a strength-giver, but not in Romania."

"So you're saying… what exactly?"

"This guy is most likely very intelligent, in his late teens to mid-twenties and Caucasian. He also has an obsession with Romanian folklore and is most likely religious."

I pulled out the second crime scene photo, where the man was painted yellow. I turned and showed the picture to my 'dad.'

"A se îngălbeni de frică_. __To go yellow with fear_," I said smugly, "According to Romanian folklore says that the first humans were black as they were made out of clay and when Cain was punished for killing his brother, God bleached his skin. That's where the saying comes from."

"'Ce inima crede ca, in limba vorbeste,'" I said as I picked up the third crime scene photo, "_'What the heart thinks, the tongue speaks_,' and his tongue is missing."

"What about Au- the fourth victim," Sam was getting excited, they were finally getting somewhere.

I held up the picture of her body how it was found and pointed to a small ornament pinned to her lapel. It was a little copper maple leaf tied onto a red and white string.

"March first is Mărţişor, Woman's Day. Women wear these little talismans on March first and up to two weeks after. New Years was on March 1st and it was believed that if they followed this tradition their skin would remain white and beautiful for the whole year and-" I was interrupted by my adoptive father having an epiphany of something I'd figured out a while back.

"Her face was powdered, YES! Oh I have to go back into work and you're coming with me."

"Wha-?" I was taken aback when Sam grabbed me by my wrists in monkey grip and yanked me up of the ground, "Okay! Can I get changed first?"

"Nope," was his only answer before he started dragging me to the car.

At some point during the car ride, Sam managed to call his team members, so when we reached the field office, everyone was there. Well, almost everyone.

"Sorry, I'm late," David Rossi announced himself as he walked in 15 minutes after we arrived.

"Dave, you know it's not polite to keep people waiting," I scolded him.

"Cut a guy some slack, I was busy," he rationalised. I glared.

"Okay. Okay. Won't happen again," ha, sweet surrender; I win.

"Oke-day, now that my 15-year-old daughter has finished reprimanding Agent Rossi, se can make her presentation."

"Wait! You never told me that I had to tell everyone my deductions," I said towards my traitorous adoptive father.

"Well, I thought you would have assumed," he reasoned.

"But—"

"Oh, just get on with it," Dave said impatiently.

I looked at him with an air of authority, "Okay."

"All of our victims have been white, yes?"

"Yea," about three agents said as one, like schoolchildren greeting a visitor to the classroom.

"Well, from this we can tell that he himself is most likely Caucasian. From the ages of the three male victims I would guess his age as late-teens, early-twenties, but due to the age of his most recent victim, I would say more like early-to-mid twenties," I paused for effect and to look at all the surprised faces. There were only two faces that weren't surprised. One of them was proud and the other smug.

"As over 90% of serial killers are Caucasian males, I think I'm safe in my assumption that this one is as well. He has an obsession with Romania but is not Romanian himself. He is most likely religious or of a Goth persuasion. His obsession with Romania may have stemmed from an obsession with vampires," Sam was still looking proud. Rossi was still smug.

Two weeks later they caught the bastard. He fit my profile to a t.

* * *

**(A/N: I don't know much of Rossi's history so can we just pretend that he was in a Virginia field office at some point in time..?)**


End file.
